Girl For Rent: A Dark Romantic Comedy

by Dark Angel

  Stacie’s eyes light up. “We need a new stripper at my club. You would totally have the job in the bag with your experience.”

  Misti snorts. “Even if her resume now includes fucking the clients?”

  I give her some side-eye. The little bitch—and I say that with all the affection in the world—has no filter. Like, zero. And she’s a bit of a ditz, to be honest. Hence the dumbass comments she keeps making.

  “Thanks,” I say dryly.

  “Oh, I have to hear this one,” Stacie says, rubbing her hands together like she can’t wait to get the latest dirt.

  Misti glances at me as if she wants permission to tell the story. So now she decides to think before she speaks. I shrug again. It’s not like hearing it again is going to make it hurt any worse.

  “So, Ella here nabbed the hottest client on Friday night,” Misti begins. “And when I say hot, I mean make-you-cum-with-one-look hot. He had his choice of any of us, and he chose her. Then get this, he tells her he wants the most obscenely expensive private dance in, like, the history of private dances.”

  I hold my empty glass up to the bartender, pleading with him with my eyes for a speedy refill as Misti continues entertaining everyone with the night that changed my life forever. Stacie is hanging on her every word, just like the rest of my friends.

  “Oh, wait. It gets better. Turns out this guy—this fuck-me-sideways piece of sex on legs—who insists he have Ella is none other than Derek, Crown Prince of St. Albans.”

  Gasps all around. Seriously? Am I the only person who didn’t know who he was?

  “Holy shit, Ella. You fucked the Prince of St. Albans?” Stacie’s eyes are so wide I think they might pop out if she’s not careful.

  I nod reluctantly, not wanting to label it as just a fuck. Because it felt like so much more than that. Earth-shatteringly, life-changing more.

  “That is so crazy,” she gushes. “But I can’t say I blame you. If I had the chance, I’d totally do him, too. You are so lucky.” She makes a face. “Well, except for the getting fired part. But I can totally hook you up with a new job at my club.”

  “You haven’t heard the best part,” Misti cries, clapping her hands.

  I frown. What else is there to say? That was the gist of it.

  “He came bursting in the club two days ago looking like he was about to go crazy. Like, really. His hair was all sticking up everywhere and his eyes were kind of wild.”

  My mouth drops open and I want to interrupt her, ask her what the hell she’s talking about, but she keeps right on talking, oblivious to the way I’m gaping at her.

  “He says he has to find her. That he’s been calling and calling and that her number is saying it’s disconnected—obviously, because it was, but that he needs to see her again. Of course, I told him what happened.”

  I’m almost speechless, trying to process everything she’s saying. Derek was looking for me? He was desperate to find me? At least, according to Misti.

  I grip her arm. “Then what?” I want to shake her when she just looks at me blankly. “Misti, what happened next? Did you tell him how to find me?”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t know what to tell him. What if he was actually some psycho who had an obsession or something? I didn’t want him stalking you.”

  “I get that, I guess, but you’re just now thinking to tell me?” Unbelievable.

  “I guess it slipped my mind until just now.” She shrugs and gives me a little smile.

  I want to scream. “You have to tell me what else happened. Did he leave a number? Say where I could find him?”

  She purses her lips and squints her eyes like she’s thinking, then shakes her head slowly.

  My shoulders sink with disappointment, but then perk up just as fast when she snaps her fingers like she just remembered something.

  “He was mumbling something as he left.”

  I look at her expectantly, and gesture get on with it with my hand.

  “Something about going back to St. Albans or something like that. At least, I think that’s what he said.” Misti shrugs helplessly.

  “Oh my God, Ella, you have to go there,” Stacie jumps in, her eyes full of excitement.

  “I do?” My eyebrows crease as I try to process all of this. It’s all happening so fast I can barely keep up.

  “Absolutely,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s clearly crazy about you, going out of his mind to find you.” She sighs. “God, it’s so romantic. You have to go to St. Albans and find him. He could be your soul mate!”

  Normally I’d scoff at the idea, but when it comes to Derek, I’m not so sure. He’s affected me in a way no other man ever has. Am I willing to give up that chance?

  I don’t think I am.

  And I have plenty of money stashed away that I can do this. A grin starts to work its way across my face, and I feel lighter than I have in days.

  I slam my glass down on the bar, the decision made. “Ladies, I’m going to do it. I’m going to St. Fucking Albans.”

  Derek

  I want to growl in frustration at the stripper who can’t seem to get the message that I don’t want her crawling all over me.

  “Just tell me, have you seen a girl with brown hair and big tits?”

  She pouts up at me like she’s totally offended I’m not into her blonde hair. Another girl with brown hair comes up and drapes herself around me.

  I grit my teeth. This has to be the eighteenth or nineteenth strip club I’ve visited in Manhattan so far in my attempt to find Sapphire. Still no luck. But that chick Misti seemed to think she would find another club to work at, and I won’t give up until I’ve checked every last one.

  “Just go back and ask everyone if they know someone named Derek.” I push the girl off me. “Please.”

  I’m having a fucking hard time being polite right about now, but I figure being a complete ass won’t get me anywhere.

  The blonde looks at me skeptically, but nods and struts off, disappearing through a door.

  As if that’s an invitation, two more strippers sidle up to take her place. “What’s so special about this girl?” one of them asks, sticking out her lower lip in a ridiculous pout.

  I sigh. She’s perfect. It’s that simple.

  I want to take her home to St. Albans and make her mine, but I’m getting more and more worried that I might never find her. Shoving the thought away, I realize the new girls have worked the top three buttons of my shirt loose and are running their hands all over my chest.

  I jump back and push them off, relieved when the blonde returns from wherever she went. I look at her anxiously. “Well?”

  Shaking her head slowly, she says, “No. Sorry. No one here is looking for a Derek.”

  I turn without another word and stride out of the club, yanking open the door to my limo and slamming it shut behind me when I slump into the seat.

  “Any luck?” my driver asks. As if my face doesn’t tell it all.

  “Next place,” I say glumly.

  We take off down the street, and I try not to give in to the mounting frustration. But I can’t fucking help it. Let’s be real, I’m starting to consider the possibility I’m never going to find her, and it’s messing with my head.

  I pull out the lacy thong that I haven’t been without since the night I met her and lift it to my face, drawing in a deep breath through my nose.

  That scent. That fucking sexy scent. It drives me mad. Out of my mind. Both with lust and with desperation.

  I have to find her.

  We pull up at the next place, and I was right because the driver announces this is stop number twenty. Leaping from the limo, I bound across the sidewalk and through the front doors.

  I’m immediately held back by a hulking beast of a dude. “Sorry, bud, you can’t just come waltzing in here.”

  “Why the fuck not?” I sneer.

  “This is a private invite club. VIPs only,” he says, pushing my chest to restrain
me from going any further.

  All my frustration comes to a head and I get right in his face. “Do you fucking know who I am?” I yell. “I’m the fucking Prince of St. Albans. I’m as VIP as it gets.”

  He scrutinizes me for a minute, then seems to somehow decide I’m telling the truth because he just shrugs and lets me past.

  Instantly, I’m swarmed by scantily clad strippers, all dying to get a piece of me.

  They stroke my cheeks, my shoulders, rub their tits all over me. Anything to get my attention. But I have one sole purpose.

  “Have you seen a girl with big tits and brown hair?”

  They all giggle and moan as they keep rubbing their bodies on me, but they don’t answer my question.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, will somebody please tell me if they’ve seen her? I’m losing my mind here!”

  A tall, deeply tanned girl standing across the room narrows her eyes in my direction, studying me, then turns and makes her way over slowly. Something about her catches my eye. Maybe the way she’s looking at me like she might know something.

  She waves the other strippers away with a mere gesture, then juts her hip out and purses her lips. “You look familiar.”

  Of course I look fucking familiar. I’m a goddamn crown prince. “Look, I just need to know if anyone has seen a girl with brown hair and big tits. I’ve been looking all over for her. She got fired from her last club, and I’ve gone to twenty places trying to find her.”

  Her eyes take on a calculating gleam. “I’m Stacie. I think I can help you.”

  “Thank fuck. Where is she?”

  She shakes her head, a smile playing at her lip. “It’s going to cost you.”

  I grab my money clip and wave it in her face. “Keep talking.”

  Stacie laughs. “No. I want you to pay me for a dance.”

  Is she serious?

  “Not gonna happen.”

  She arches a brow. “I’m the most in-demand dancer here.” Then she shrugs and starts to turn away. “Your loss.”

  I grab her by the elbow and spin her back around. “Look, I really need to find her. I’ll give you the money for the dance, but I don’t want the dance. Not from anyone but Sapphire.”

  She smiles a real smile this time. “I’m impressed. You must really like her. And just so you know, the girl you’re talking about? Her name is Ella.”

  Ella. I smile as the knowledge of her real name sinks in. Somehow, it’s fitting.

  Pulling out a $20 bill, I give it to her. “How can I find her?”

  “She’s not here. She’s off chasing some prince or some shit like that.”

  I’m staggered. “She what?”

  “Yeah, she met some prince of St. Albania or something like that and took off to his kingdom, hoping to find him. She flew out yesterday.”

  Ella

  The plane lands in St. Albans, and I bounce in my seat, anxious to get off the plane. That was a long ass flight.

  I don’t have much in the way of luggage since I took the first flight I could find out of New York, so I bypass baggage claim and go straight to the taxi stand. So far everything in the airport is just like in America. They even speak English here, even though they have the same stilted accents that Derek has.

  A combination of nerves and excitement flutters in my stomach as I climb into the cab and give the driver the name of my hotel. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s so crazy and impulsive. What if he doesn’t want to see me?

  I look down in horror and realize I’m biting my fingernail. I can’t have ragged nails when I find him. How embarrassing. I may need to get a manicure before I begin my search.

  Folding my hands in my lap, I look out the window, wanting to take in all of Derek’s homeland. Surprisingly, everything looks just like New York, but better. It’s super modern with tall, sleek buildings, lots of glitzy stores and restaurants, and I even see a few strip clubs.

  At least I know I can find a job here if things don’t work out with Derek, though I immediately push that thought away. That just can’t be possible. I have to focus on that night we had together and remember that connection we had. After all, he came back to the club to ask about me. He was trying to find me, desperately, according to Misti.

  I smile, thinking about how romantic that is. He came back for me when he realized something wasn’t right. That means there’s definitely something there between us.

  The cab goes over a tall bridge, crossing a river that sparkles and shines in the sunlight, looking picture perfect. Then we’re winding through the busy streets, passing official government buildings and huge skyscrapers. Off in the distance on a little island, I see the palace.

  Wow. It’s breathtaking. I’m shocked all over again that Derek is actually a prince. He lives there. It’s too crazy. I wonder what it looks like inside.

  The cab driver weaves in and out of traffic at a terrifying clip, jerking me around in the backseat. Finally pulling up to my hotel, he waits for me to pay the fare, then takes off as soon as I’m out of the door. I shake my head. It’s amazing how, except for the palace, this place is almost just like Manhattan.

  Making my way inside the sliding glass doors of the hotel, the ornate lobby takes my breath away, the glittering chandeliers and marble floors making me smile. At least I’ll be in luxury.

  At the check-in desk, I ask for a room with a balcony overlooking the city and ask questions about St. Albans while I wait for the woman to finish checking me in.

  “First time here?” she asks.

  “Yes. What are some of the places I just have to see?”

  Her fingers click away furiously at the keyboard. “The palace, definitely. I’d also recommend taking a ferry down the river. The view of St. Albans is great from the water.”

  “What about the royal family?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “Are they around?”

  She looks at me strangely. “Well, they live in the palace, naturally. They make public appearances occasionally. Why? Are you interested in the prince?” Her eyes narrow suspiciously, like it’s her job to protect Derek from crazy stalkers.

  I want to roll my eyes and tell her I’m not just interested in the prince, I’m his fucking soul mate, and his cock was buried so deep in my pussy last weekend that I simply know it’s true, but I keep that to myself. Something tells me it won’t go over well.

  Instead, I say, “I’m just unfamiliar with royal customs. I don’t really know anything about St. Albans.”

  She nods, handing me my key card. “Well, St. Albans is one of the oldest island nations in the world, and has been under the same monarchy for fifteen hundred years. All the same bloodline.” She says this very proudly. “We are independent, but one of the richest countries in the world, thanks to our wonderful king.”

  I make a humming noise. “You said something about a prince, though.”

  “Yes. The Crown Prince Derek is next in line for the throne. If he’ll ever settle down and marry.” She smiles and blinks. “You’re in room eighteen-eighty-four. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  I shake my head and turn away, heading for the elevators, thinking about what she just said the entire way up to my room. So, Derek has to get married before he can take the throne. It’s hard to reconcile the man I was with at the club with my idea of a ruler of this little nation.

  A laugh bubbles up. But I can definitely see why he hasn’t settled down and married yet. The man just screams wild and untamed party boy. Naughty and bad and oh-so-dirty. I feel a shiver race through my body remembering just how naughty and dirty Derek is.

  Inserting my key card in the door, I go in and look around the opulent room. So maybe I went a bit overboard, but a girl’s entitled to a little luxury, right? I cross to the double doors leading to the balcony and go outside, leaning on the railing and looking out over the kingdom of St. Albans.

  Derek is out there somewhere. My soul mate. I just know he is.

  Is he thinking of me? Is he sad? Does he miss
me as much as I miss him?

  The sun is starting to set, and the sky is alight with a rainbow of colors. A perfect backdrop for finding true love. Turning to go back in, I start formulating my game plan.

  It’s time to go find my prince.

  Derek

  My private jet lands in St. Albans, and I’m about to come unglued, the urgency of finding Ella at the forefront of my mind.

  I can’t believe she came all this way to look for me. That must mean that everything I feel for her, she feels too. She’s just as desperate to find me. It’s one more thing that cements it for me. We’re meant to be. It’s like fate or something. I stick my hand in my pocket, fingering her thong. It’s become a habit that makes me feel close to her.

  Striding toward my waiting limo, I know I have to find her as soon as possible. But how am I supposed to do that? There has to be a way.

  As soon as I slide onto the soft leather seat, I find my personal secretary, Travers, waiting for me.

  He looks down at me through his bifocals. “Your Highness, I must say I was surprised to find out you were coming home. I was under the impression that you were trying to escape your royal duties.”

  I laugh and clap him on the knee. “Good to see you too, Travers. You’ve got it all wrong, my man. It wasn’t the duty that bothered me, it was the stipulation.”

  “Meaning marriage.”

  I point at him with my forefingers cocked. “Bingo.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “Has something changed?”

  A smile breaks across my face. “Has it ever.” I lean back in the seat and sigh, thinking about Ella.

  “Highness, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that expression on your face before.”

  I cut my eyes at him. “Because it’s never been there before, Travers.” I lean forward, my arms resting on my knees. “But I’ve found her. The girl I want to marry.”

  He looks at me like his eyes are about to bug out of his head. “Marriage?” he stutters. “I don’t understand. You didn’t want any of the ladies at court.”